Haven't You Heard I'm The New Cancer?
by DatAssRomano
Summary: PoLiet, LietPo, LithuaniaxPoland, FeliksxToris, etc. Feliks is a stripper, and he's found a new plaything in the form of his old friend, Toris. ((Smut-ish, based on the song "There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought Of It Yet" by Panic! At The Disco))


I wrote this in five seconds. Don't judge.)

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_Please, leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman,_

_From that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed._

_I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it,_

_Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and..._

The first night Feliks invited his little Lithuanian friend to see him dance, he wasn't sure how it would go. They'd been friends before, but...it had faded over the years, leaving both sides with insanely bottled up feelings for each other. After they graduated they'd lost contact somehow, and Feliks was determined to bring that back with all his might.

_Please, leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman,_

_From that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed._

_I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it,_

_Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and..._

In other words, he was looking for a new toy.

The last one he'd had was a tall, Russian man named Ivan. That one hadn't lasted very long at all. Seems he thought he'd be the sadist in the relationship, and Feliks only allowed that when the mood suited him or the man he was with was interesting enough for those kind of games.

_When you're in black slacks with accentuating, off-white, pinstripes, whoa, everything goes according to plan~_

There was one problem.

Feliks was a stripper.

He waved at the crowd, blowing kisses to his new favourites, who payed a damn lot to get their hands on his body. His longish blonde locks curled around his face as he beamed. The Polish man for some reason was hugely popular, especially with the men.

_I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it-_

_-Because you say so under your breath,_

_You're reading lips, "When did he get all confident?"_

Toris didn't fit in with the dirty old men in their plaid suits; a pretty, tall-ish brunette with the most amazing pair of sea-green eyes one could find. Feliks was entranced by how Toris looked, like a fairy that's wings had been torn off.

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_Never looked better, and you can't stand it,_

He strutted proudly, going into his dance routine fluidly and without fail. As he threw his tie into the crowd he noticed with faint amusement that Toris had been the one to grab it and stick it in his pocket. Feliks twirled around the pole, catching a rose between his teeth. He noticed Toris's eyes going wide at his nearly nudity.

Just for him, Feliks wouldn't lose the pants tonight.

Might be too much for the poor boy, after all.

And we couldn't have that.

_Next is a trip to the, the ladies room in vain, and_

_I bet you just can't keep up with, (keep up) with these fashionistas, and,_

_Tonight, tonight you are, you are a whispering campaign,_

_I bet to them your name is "Cheap", I bet to them you look like shh..._

When Feliks was rounding up the cash with his fellow dancers, he saw his Lithuanian buddy going into the back rooms. The only things in the back were 'those' rooms. He frowned and shoved the cash at the other dancer before trotting out of the area.

_Talk to the mirror, oh, choke back tears,_

_And keep telling yourself that "I'm a diva!"_

_Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table,_

_they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin._

Where could his little toy have gone? It was rather strange. When he got to the back where he had seen the Lithuanian go, he looked around quickly, but there was no Toris to be seen. He sighed and opened the door to his private room, which had been left unlocked once again, even though he'd told the people to fix the damn thing.

_I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it-_

_-Because you say so under your breath._

_You're reading lips, "When did he get all confident?"_

Feliks let out a small yelp as he was pinned up against a wall. That was when his lime-green irises connected with a cooler, and yet more passionate sea-green. He licked his lips nervously, not fighting against the grip keeping him against the cool hardness of the wall.

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_Never looked better, and you can't stand it,_

"...Toris?"

Lips pressed insistently against his and all thoughts of anything else flew out the window as their tongues met and sparks flew. This was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he needed. The sparks collected around his body and suddenly he felt _alive, _more than he ever had dancing or playing with people.

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_I've never looked better, and you can't stand it,_

Clothes were scattered around the already-messy room, not that Feliks or his newfound guest noticed in the heat of their passion as the Polish man was pushed onto the bed and left looking up at the breathtaking sight of Toris, and his dilated eyes travelling down Feliks' exposed body.

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_I've never looked better, and you can't stand it,_

_And I know, and I know, it just doesn't feel like a night out with no one sizing you up._

_I've never been so surreptitious, so of course you'll be distracted when I spike the punch._

"You were...so hot up there," Toris panted as he straddled Feliks, almost being careful but not really. The Polish man smirked up at him as bare, scarred skin touched for the first time, sending flames all around.

"That was like, totally the point," was all he could manage before he was taken over.

_And I know, and I know, it just doesn't feel like a night out with no one sizing you up._

_I've never been so surreptitious, so of course you'll be distracted when I spike the punch._

The morning after was neither awkward nor lovey-dovey. Feliks awoke to his Lithuanian fuck-buddy (as of last night) drinking coffee and reading a discarded fashion magazine he'd picked up from somewhere on the Polish man's floor.

"Like, could you pass me my pants, Toris?

"Sure."

Feliks caught the pants and winced as his lower half twinged in pain. Toris had really done a number on him last night.

But it had been so worth it.

_And I know, and I know, it just doesn't feel like a night out with no one sizing you up._

_I've never been so surreptitious, so of course you'll be distracted when I spike the punch._


End file.
